


The Milk To His Porridge

by Riddle_Me_This_Darling



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Male Slash, Secret Relationship, Short One Shot, Silly Comparisons, sickly sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 13:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10663635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddle_Me_This_Darling/pseuds/Riddle_Me_This_Darling
Summary: Jimmy and Thomas are together and they're in love. Whilst admiring the under-butler on night, Jimmy shows poetic promise.





	The Milk To His Porridge

It had taken a long while, but now that he openly returned Thomas’s feelings of love and attraction, Jimmy found that he couldn’t stop himself from staring at Thomas, his dearest love. It was still a little strange for him to label Thomas as his lover, but he was slowly adjusting to their relationship. Now, in the dim candlelight of Thomas’s bedroom, he admired the under-butler’s unblemished ivory skin, shiny ebony hair and plump red lips. Thomas's eyes were closed; he was dozing soundly against Jimmy’s chest, peaceful and still. They were lying in his bed, their bodies squashed against one another as there was little room for two grown men. Jimmy was propped upright, resting against the headboard, idly puffing on a cigarette.

Thomas’s snuffled and snuggled closer, his long eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheek. Jimmy watched him fondly and smiled, proud in the knowledge that Thomas Barrow was his. Through his love for Thomas, he had come to understand the lingering glances he had received from his lover upon his arrival at Downton. He now understood why Thomas had felt the need to constantly touch him; a comforting hand on his thigh, a friendly pat on the shoulder. At the time, the contact had confused and frightened him, although truthfully, Jimmy had been more afraid of himself and his underlying attraction to men. It pained him greatly to think back on his poor behaviour. He was still a little frightened now, for he had never been so enamoured with another person before, and he knew Thomas felt the same. The under-butler had loved him since the moment he had first lain eyes on him, and Jimmy knew this. He felt guilty, but at least they were now free to make up for lost time. They had shared their first kiss – a proper kiss – a little over a month ago and from that moment on wards, Thomas had become Jimmy’s everything. He was his reason to remain at Downton and his reason to turn Lady Anstruther away. Thomas was the centre of his universe, the silver moon to his golden sun. The strawberry to his cream. The milk to his porridge.

“What”? He muttered impulsively, surprised by his own ridiculous conscience. It took him a few seconds to realise he had spoken out loud.

Beneath him, Thomas stirred and rubbed his eyes.

“The milk to my _porridge?_ ” Jimmy wondered silently, shaking his head. “What the hell am I on about?”

“Hmm?” Thomas mumbled sleepily, only half awake.

Jimmy gave his arm a gently pat and quietly replied, “Oh, nothing.”

Thomas shrugged, unfazed. To the right, his small alarm clock struck twelve. Jimmy yawned, exhausted from standing on his feet all day and rubbed his aching neck. He glanced at the clock and noted how late it was. He didn't want to leave but he would have to return to his own room lest they be they be caught in bed with one another come morning. After their previous scandal, he knew that neither he nor Thomas would be safe from the sack (or worse, arrest) if they were found in the same bed.Thomas was in the most danger and Jimmy felt responsible for his protection now that they were a couple. He also felt as though he owed Thomas after he had sacrificed himself to the gang of thugs at Thirsk Fair to save him. Jimmy had made a vow; never again would Thomas be abandoned, left to fight the world alone.

Before his mood could be dampened by nightmarish visions of Thomas suffering at the hands of cruel yobs, Thomas unknowingly distracted Jimmy from his dark thoughts with a whispered, “I heard you say ‘what’ just a moment ago.”

He then fidgeted and wriggled his legs, accidentally kicking Jimmy's shin as adjusted himself into a more comfortable position.

“I was just thinking is all,” Jimmy admitted whilst he watched the sheets beneath him moved as Thomas writhed about. “I was being soppy, thinking about how lovely you are, then I thought of something daft.”

Thomas stilled after a few seconds, finally content, and glanced up at the Jimmy, whose cheeks had flushed pink. He grinned, unable to stop himself from smiling at the footman’s bashful appearance.

Jimmy caught his smile and gave him a playful nudge before he scolded, “Away with your cheeky smirk, Mr Barrow!”

“I like it when you’re soppy, you know that,” Thomas said dreaming, laying his head on Jimmy’s shoulder. “Nobody’s ever been soppy over me before, at least not genuinely. It’s nice. I never thought anyone ever would.”

“Yeah well,” Jimmy sighed, the little energy he had left slowly draining from lack of rest. “I was conjuring up all of these comparisons about you being important to me, all of that, like how you’re the moon to my sun.”

“Lovely,” Thomas mumbled through a yawn.

“Then I thought about how you’re the cream to my strawberry,” Jimmy continued. “And I finally concluded that you, Thomas Barrow, are the milk to my porridge. How’s that for romantic imagery?”

Thomas snorted and quipped, “My word, Lord Byron will have competition.” Smirking, he drawled, “I’m glad I was the milk.”

Jimmy's eyebrows rose, almost disappearing into his hairline.

“What do you mean by that?” He asked, stifling a yawn.

Thomas shrugged and nuzzled into his neck, pressing a kiss against the warm skin. He smiled when four fingers thread themselves into his hair; playing with the tousled, pomade free strands.

“I’m glad I’m your milk,” Thomas said sleepily, closing his eyes again.

Jimmy chuckled and pulled him closer, whispering, “I’m glad I’m your porridge.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was too sweet, it's ridicuously sickly.


End file.
